


Scars

by TetrodotoxinB



Series: Whumptober 2019 [15]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: But I did so there we are, Day 15, Falaka, I have no idea why I used Mac POV at the beginning, Whumptober 2019, foot injury, lying, prompt: scars, references to past torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 20:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21042611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: Jack hasn't always been honest with Riley about the nature of his injuries.





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Secret_Library98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secret_Library98/pseuds/Secret_Library98).

To Mac, the scars they all carry are just inevitabilities. This job gets everyone eventually and he’s never really paid attention to their respective scars beyond their use as identifying marks. But it’s always been easy for him to forget that to others, those marks mean a whole lot more. 

He’s abruptly reminded of this fact one Sunday afternoon. Everyone is hanging out on Mac’s back deck and Jack’s kicked off his shoes, propping his feet up on the bench in front of him.

“Jack, what the hell is up with your feet? How much tile did you step on?” Riley asks.

Mac chuckles and looks up to see Riley eyeing the bottoms of Jack’s feet with a horrified look. “That was what, 2005 in Afghanistan? I don’t think there was a whole lot of tile involved, Riley.” Mac offers, turning back to fiddle with the controls on the grill.

Jack doesn’t answer immediately and Mac looks up from the grill again, perplexed, only to see Jack looking guilty as hell and Riley on the verge of tears. 

“What happened, Jack? You told me you stepped on broken tile on a convention trip! You limped for three months!! What does Mac mean ‘Afghanistan’?” Riley asks, her voice rising in pitch and volume the longer she speaks.

Matty and Bozer share a concerned look, but stay the hell out of the conversation. 

Slowly, Jack lowers his feet to the floor like concealing the evidence gets rid of the problem altogether. “Uh, well, Riles. So you know, the whole tile thing was my cover for the CIA, right?” Jack asks hesitantly.

Riley sniffles and somehow manages to also glare frighteningly at the same time. “I know, Jack.”

“Well, um, you might have guessed I didn’t really go to any tile conventions. The details of the op are classified, but suffice it to say I pissed off a local chief and he might not have appreciated it.”

Riley gapes like a landed fish. “You were tortured and came home and played it off like it was nothing? Did mom know? Did she have any idea what you were dealing with?”

Jack shakes his head. “No, I lied to her, too. What was I gonna say? ‘Hey Diane, how was work. Yeah, no, the trip was great, just got my feet whipped in a misunderstanding at the tile convention. Yeah, I told some guy his grout stains weren’t color fast.’” Jack leans forward, elbows on knees. “I never liked lying to either of you, and when I came home I would’ve given anything to be honest with your mom. I felt like shit, but that’s the job, Riles.”

Mac watches tears drip off Riley’s face as the reality of it all sinks in. It’s hard for her, like watching his mom go through chemo was hard for him, except that for RIley, the reality is coming in bits and pieces more than a decade after the fact. Knowing someone you love is hurting, or was hurting, and not being able to make them better cuts in a way that serves to undermine every shred of confidence someone has, and Mac feels for them both. There’s nothing easy about this.

“How-” Riley pauses to get her composure. “Can I- What can I ask?”

“Whatever you need to,” Jack says softly. “But I won’t lie about it, so make sure you’re ready to know the answer.”

Riley nods and wipes her cheeks again. “Later,” she says simply.

Jack nods. “Sure, baby. Later is good, too.”

*****

“Later” comes once Matty has gone home, and Bozer and Mac have taken the hint and gone inside.

Jack is picking at the label on his empty beer bottle not really expecting much of anything when Riley says, “Will you tell me?”

Jack leans over and sets his empty on the deck. “Sure, baby. What do you wanna know?”

Riley shrugs and stares intently at her own empty bottle. “What happened? What did you do? How bad was it? How’d you escape?”

Jack understands her need to know. He’d feel similarly awful if someone he loved suffered like that right under his nose and he missed it. But now, with all his life experience, Jack knows that sometimes knowing hurts more than the worry that uncertainty holds, but it’s also not Jack’s place to make that decision for her. 

“Long story short I was sticking my nose somewhere the chief didn’t like and when they caught me they were pretty pissed. Over there they call it ‘falaka,’ but it’s basically just a fancy word for foot whipping. Hurts like nothing you’d believe. I think they said fifty, but I’m pretty sure I passed out somewhere around thirty-five. I don’t remember some of it,” Jack admits.

Riley sniffles and nods. “Did they just let you go when it was over?”

Jack laughs, bitter and sad. “No, oh no. They were going to kill me afterwards to make a point, but they were waiting on whoever had to go get the camera equipment. No, I escaped and managed to crawl all the way to the next valley over where there was an Army outpost. I spent about a week in the hospital. I had cracks in a bunch of them little foot bones — the ones with the funny names — and had about thirty stitches in each foot.”

“And you didn’t use crutches?” Riley asks with a look that says _‘Jack, you’re a dumbass.’_

“Well, I couldn’t tell you what really happened, and as you might now be aware, I am shit at cover stories. The tile thing was the best I could come up with.”

Riley laughs like the sound has been punched out of her. “You’re an idiot, Jack.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack says with a grin. “Now come on, I told you my secrets. Now you tell me how you enjoyed going to Senior Prom in eighth grade.”

The look of sheer panic and surprise on her face is enough to make Jack laugh. “Oh, honey child, you didn’t think I didn’t know about that little excursion, did you? I may not make good cover stories, but I make a damn good covert agent, and here to let you know that thirteen year-old you may have been damn smart with a computer, but I’ve met sneakier bulls wearing tap shoes.”

Riley laughs again, this time not so wetly or so suddenly. “What does that even mean, Jack?’

“It means you were real obvious and I went and watched while your momma waited for me at home. So spill, tell me all about it,” Jack insists.

Riley sniffles and wipes her eyes again. “Yeah, alright, but on one condition.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“No, more getting tortured and no more lying about injuries,” Riley demands.

“That’s two conditions and I’ll do my best on both counts, but no promises,” Jack offers. It’s a shitty reality, but one they both have to accept given the lives they lead. 

“Deal,” Riley agrees.


End file.
